


Fading Wounds

by transfixeddream



Category: Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/pseuds/transfixeddream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows 2.04 - Empty Hands: In which Seppia's still shaken up by how the night transpired and Seppius tries to calm her.</p><p>Also posted <a href="http://transfixeddream.livejournal.com/120418.html">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fading Wounds

"I shall have you drawn a bath."

Seppia looked up at her brother in surprise, temporarily shaken from her thoughts. Seppius had been quiet the trip home, not a spoken word shared between them. She had embarrassed him, without doubt, but Seppia had never known Seppius to outright ignore her. Though, she could not focus on such things at the present moment when her mind slipped to much darker thoughts.

She nodded. "Gratitude."

Seppia had always found bathing to be peaceful. The warm embrace of water, the welcomed touch of cloth to her skin; she could close her eyes and let herself be cared for without worry. Now when she closed her eyes she only brought horror to herself.

A traitor of Rome. That was what he had been. A pathetic Gaul. He had watched good Romans be put to death--there was no doubt that he had seen lives ended by his own hand. And yet Seppia couldn't remove him from her thoughts, the images of his body, carved and made bloody for mere enjoyment, pierced in her mind like Ilithyia had pierced him. His screams rang in her ears amid the laughter of the others.

"Speak," Seppia commanded. Leda froze and looked up from her work, wet cloth in hand. "Well?" Seppia asked, voice going higher. "Speak or I shall have your tongue."

An empty threat after tonight, but Seppia wondered. Had Leda crossed her just a day ago, would her words have been as untruthful?

Leda slowly pressed her cloth to Seppia's arm and asked timidly, "What would you have me say, Domina?"

"It does not matter what you say," Seppia said. If only Ilithyia could see her now, begging words out of a common slave. "Just _speak_."

She had seen many men put to death and had even quietly cheered for it. The blood and sand of the arena was always a welcomed spectacle, and yet now her thoughts refused to see the spectacle of tonight. Seppia had shown no mercy as she'd watched others cut into him, delighted at the sight, even. There was no question that the slave deserved his sentence, at least not until the very blade was in Seppia's own hand.

It was his eyes-- _why_ had she let herself glance upon his face?--and the realization in them that Seppia would end his suffering. The relief they had shown, not the terror she had expected, that he would soon be removed from this life. It shook her. No longer was this mere sport, a game to pass the night away; this was the taking of a man's last breath. And the idea of ending life, even one of a traitor, made her stomach twist and her throat close up.

But it hadn't affected Ilithyia; a proper lady and yet she grasped the blade like she had held one her entire life. She robbed the man of his life and Seppia of her husband without flinching, without so much as a pause to reconsider. Seppia had watched as the light left the traitor's eyes, seen how the light seemed to grow in Ilithyia's.

"Your face yet shows great worry. Does the bath not calm you?"

"Seppius," Seppia gasped, sitting up straighter and covering her breasts with her arm. "It's fine."

Seppius smiled and shook his head. "A pitiful liar you are, sister. Leave us," he directed at Leda, who rose immediately and took her reprieve. Seppia could not hide the frown forming on her face; Seppius didn't wish for an audience while he berated her.

"I shall share your bath," was all Seppius said, however, and Seppia watched silently as her brother pulled his robes over his head, looking away as Seppius revealed himself to her. He was quiet getting into the bath, the rise of water on her breasts the only indication of his presence until his leg brushed hers.

"Look at me," Seppius said, voice not unkind. Swallowing, Seppia did as told, gaze focused on Seppius' face and nowhere else. Her brother's now-troubled face deepened, forehead crinkling. "You avert your gaze."

"Apologies, Seppius." Seppia focused her eyes on a petal floating by her arm. 

"And yet," Seppius said, his touch tender under Seppia's chin as he turned her head to face him once again, "you repeat action."

Certain her cheeks were of ample pink, and uncertain of the source of her brother's kindness, Seppia quietly muttered, "Apologies." Once again she would embarrass Seppius; she should only thank the Gods that this time he would be the sole witness.

"You needn't apologize," he said. He placed his hand on her arm and gently pushed it away from her body. "And you needn't hide yourself from me."

Seppia could not recall a time when Seppius was quite so gently spoken, or soft of touch. At least not after she had made a mockery of him--as she had many times previous--or since she announced plans to marry Varinious. There was a time, after the loss of their father, that Seppius had been as kind, but their father had long grown cold in his grave, and this Seppius had grown cold with him.

"I've made such fools of us both," Seppia whispered, eyes closing. Immediately she could see the traitor's face: his bleeding mouth, his flayed cheek, his eyes. His fucking eyes. She could see Ilithyia's smirk as she took the sword from Seppia's shaking hands and then buried it inside the Gaul.

"Impossible, sister," Seppius said, voice harder, more determined. And then, soft again: "It's Varinious who is the fool, to lose such loving wife."

"Only to gain another. Ilithyia makes effort to secure Varinious' affections."

Seppius was silent for a moment, but then leaned in close to Seppia, two fingers grazing a strand of hair resting on her cheek. "There is but one whose affections Ilithyia can never own."

Seppia sighed. "And whose might that be?"

Slowly, Seppius smiled. "Mine," he said, and spanned the short distance between their lips. Seppia startled back but Seppius cupped her face and pulled her in, and Seppia let go of any restraint, sinking against Seppius's mouth.

Seppius' mouth was upon her mere hours ago and then many times before that, but this was far from such modest kisses. Seppius _gave_ , as if he had something to prove, and Seppia took what her brother gave.

It seemed as if mere moments had passed when Seppius pulled away, eyes heavy, more black than brown. Quietly he cleared his throat and brushed his thumb across Seppia's lips. "The night grows dark and the water cold," he said, standing. This time Seppia did not look away, watching as Seppius rose from the water. Droplets of water poured down from his body, a wet path down his stomach and over his erection. Seppius seemed to linger far longer than necessary, and Seppia wondered if perhaps he did it for her.

She wasn't certain how to feel about it.

"Worry not," Seppius said loudly, and Seppia's gaze shot to his face. "I shall have words with Varinious prior to the games tomorrow," he said, voice again soft, his fist clenched.

Seppia nodded and watched as Seppius turned to leave. The recollection of the traitor was slowly leaving her mind, allowing room for new memories of her brother's lips, of his body.

She would follow Seppius's advice shortly, but for now she sank back into the water, a small smile upon her lips. Ilithyia may have robbed her of Varinious, but she could never rob Seppia of her brother; Seppius would always belong to her.


End file.
